


Secrets

by Jicklet



Series: The Royal Disaster [2]
Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen, all this drama and Riley just wants to go dance with Maxwell, my apologies to all of Cordonia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15077378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jicklet/pseuds/Jicklet
Summary: A series of drabbles about MC Riley Brooks coming to terms with her feelings for Maxwell and where they might lead. ♥Chapter 5 is illustrated.





	1. when it started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! This starts sometime during Book 2.

She didn't know when it had started.

But the more she looked back, the longer she realized it went.

Moments of truth, ones she hadn't understood the meaning of at the time. (“There's no one else I'd rather be dancing with.” “Riley… You shouldn't say that.” “What? I just meant, for my first real waltz, I feel safe with you.”) (“What happens if a suitor falls for someone else during all this?” “What? No! Please don't tell me -- look, the social season is hectic, it's easy to get confused--” “No! I just meant, hypothetically.” “Oh! Well. Yeah, in that case… Don't do it!”) (“Ready to get back in there? It’s almost time for the coronation.” “Maxwell, what if we just… didn't go back.” “Heh... Riley, this is no time for jitters, now let's get in there and make you queen!”)

All these moments come back to her slowly on the evening following her return to court. She'd just been about to change out of her new (!) dress, when there had been a knock at her door and she'd opened it to find Maxwell -- holding two dozen roses.

Her heart had stopped. Then it started back up double time, shock and confusion flooding her system ( _what the_ hell-- _Oh_ no _, what is he--???_ ) before she discovered they were from Liam, and while she should have been touched and relieved, instead she was… disappointed.

...That wasn't right.

Maxwell had chattered on happily while her stomach retreated inside of her spleen. No. _No,_ this couldn't be right, she was here for Liam, for Cordonia, for house Beaumont. People were counting on her. These were way higher stakes than taking some guy you'd met at work out to a bar, showing him the Statue of Liberty to fulfill a dream, figuring you'd likely never see him again. But still, they were stakes she’d agreed to. Worthy goals she’d wanted to reach.

So she'd tried to refocus. Shoved the realization to the back of her mind, focused on stealing moments with Liam and unraveling the plot against her. Tried so hard to pretend she was excited to go to bed because she might dream of Liam, and not because of who would be waking her up. But without her permission, she began to realize that gallant lines from Liam didn't thrill her half as much as the effortless support or innocent touches from Maxwell.

Liam took her to beautiful places, shared his secrets, his fears, his heart… and she couldn't stop herself from thinking more fondly of the company in the limo rides that had brought her there.

Maxwell made her laugh, he not only joined in on her most outlandish ideas but outdid them, he made her finally feel like she _belonged._ In the end, it was just that simple.

She stopped accepting Liam's invitations, making excuses for how hard it was to sneak out, only seeing him around other people. Started focusing more on clearing her name, on actually participating in courtly events, anything to put off the moment when she would have to break the heart of the world's most perfect man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art related to this chapter:  
> http://partytimesloth.tumblr.com/post/175284353335/when-theres-an-actual-prince-in-love-with-you


	2. in which there are cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Book 2, Chapter 1) Riley is having a rough time, Maxwell is having feelings and doesn’t realize it. Pure self-indulgent fluff.

The days were winding down before Riley's return to court, and Maxwell was more optimistic than ever that she was going to blow them all away. Not that she hadn't done fantastically before! But, well, Bertrand admittedly had a point about the benefit a little preparation could grant. Now she would be returning with all the courtly weapons the brothers could think to arm her with; she knew all the formal dances, could avoid or defuse most international incidents over dinner or tea, _and_ could consistently run 5K without stopping (though complaining as long as she had breath).

(He mostly ignored the complaints, as long as she kept responding to his post-run “same time tomorrow?” with a nod along with her eyeroll. Plus, now that he had a partner, his own time was down, so yay!)

By now they'd covered all the important bases and were starting to move on to more obscure ones. Today, Bertrand, in his infinite wisdom, had insisted on training Riley in the ancient art of fan language--just in case. Maxwell really couldn't see that one coming back into fashion, but once she'd gotten the hang of the basics, the two of them did have fun using it sneakily to mock Bertrand. The elder Beaumont had eventually caught on, but rather than being annoyed was strangely more pleased that the lesson had stuck.

Yep, she was doing great and soon would be heading back into the fray… And Maxwell was not at all disappointed at the thought that he'd soon have to be sharing her time with more than Bertrand. Because that would make him a big selfish jerk, which he wasn't.

Except maybe he was, because Maxwell was enjoying his days more consistently than he had in years. If the universe had played out fairly, she should be off in the palace with Liam, freshly engaged and ready to start the new life she had fully earned. But instead she was stuck here, with him. If he was being honest, it was just _fun_ having Riley around. He genuinely liked spending time with her; someone who not only listened to his latest big ideas but tossed back ways to improve them, who threw two-person dance parties with him when they got bored, and deflected Bertrand’s ire when another of his inevitable screw ups came to light.

Tonight, Maxwell had been about to rewatch _Return of Death Ghost’s Revenge_ for the hundredth time when he thought to ask if she might want to join him. Bertrand insisted his collection was frivolous and nothing but bad taste, but sometimes a guy just liked to shut his brain off and unwind. He hoped she would get that; months ago he wouldn’t have even tried, but she had a habit of surprising him.

But as he approached her door, he got a different kind of surprise. It uh. Kind of sounded like she was screaming from really far away?

His knock was erratic with mild panic. “Riley? Riley, are you okay???”

Pause.

“Come in.”

He started breathing again as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. The lights were off, and it took a minute for him to make out where she was. She’d been lying facedown on the bed, but had her head raised up to look at him. “Hey Maxwell.” Her head dropped back to the comforter, where frustrated groaning resumed.

“So uhhh…” He approached hesitantly. “Is this about the napkins again? Because honestly, I'm with you. Whatever gets the job done should be fine.”

“Okay, seriously, if an alliance is fragile enough to be broken by one fold, then you've got bigger problems.” she huffed, then shook her head. “Wait, no, this isn't on Bertrand. I upset myself by being an idiot.”

He frowns. “You're not an idiot.”

“Sweet, but incorrect. what's the one thing I told myself I wasn't gonna do on my own?” She turns to scowl at something; he follows her gaze to see that she'd flung her phone on the ground. “I looked at the news.”

He winces. “Oh. Oh no.”

“Yeah, I knew it was gonna upset me, and I did it anyway. I just wanted to know what's going on, you know?”

He does, _and_ he knows what she must have seen. _Trend_ had just published a profile on Madeline, showcasing all the things that made her a fantastic choice for queen, coupled with flowery prose over how happy she was “finding new love” with Liam.

Her huff of air was swallowed up by the fluffs of blanket.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Anything I can do?”

“Casually push Madeline off a cliff?”

“Okay, we’ll put that on the list, but anything _short_ of murder?”

“Dang man, I thought we were friends.” He could hear the grin in her voice. But when she turned to look at him, it was gone, replaced by a thoughtful look. “Actually… you wanna cuddle?”

He blinked. “That… I… What?”

“Cuddle.” She looks uncertain. “Do… do you guys not _do_ that here?”

“No we do! Probably.” His face didn't seem to know what expression to make. “Just uh. No one's ever asked me before.”

“What, really?” That got her sitting halfway up, leaning on her elbows to squint at him with a playfully dubious smile. “ _Nobody's_ wanted to cuddle with Maxwell Beaumont? No way.”

He huffed, suddenly self-conscious. “Well, I mean. It’s not like--” he cut himself off. “I mean… Well, there was one girl once…” He thought back, considering. “It was nice!” Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d liked it more than the sex.

“Oh.” She looked like she actually might feel sorry for him, which just made him feel worse about the whole thing. You really didn't think cuddle experience was a thing that would come up in casual conversation.

How he felt must have shown on his face, because her expression quickly changed to something more encouraging. “Well, don't feel bad, I had to teach Hana too, so maybe it really is a commoner thing!” She looked towards the window, her smile fading. “I hope she's okay.” She picked at a thread on the comforter. “I miss her.”

“I do too,” he admitted with a frown. Hana leaving just wasn’t fair.

She gave him a grateful smile. Then she continued, “Look, forget it, you don't have to--”

He interrupted her by flopping onto the bed. “Let's do this!”

“Oh!” She blinked in surprise, and he was pleased to see her familiar grin spread back across her face. “That's the spirit! Actually, maybe a little _too_ much spirit for cuddling.”

“Right. Toning it down.”

“Alright, you get comfortable and I’ll work around you. I’m apparently the expert around these parts, after all,” she waggled her eyebrows at him teasingly.

He started out lying on his side looking at her.“Is this--?” He flipped to his back. “How do I--?”

“Here, put your arm out? No, uh. _Heh._ The one on my side.” Crap, he was not passing this class so far. He flushed slightly as he switched arms. That finally seemed to be right, as she crawled closer, lying her head on his offered arm, before gently placing her own across his chest.

She settled. In that moment, the only movement was their breathing.

“ ...Oh,” he said eloquently.

“Is this okay?” Her voice was soft. “I'm not crushing your arm?”

“No, yeah! This is…warm?”

She laughed. “Alright, good?”

“I mean, it's nice!” Tentatively, he placed a hand over her arm. “I feel like a teddy bear.”

Another chuckle. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say? But, perhaps sensing his unease, she squeezed him reassuringly and he relaxed.

Then, he heard her say, in a slightly embarrassed voice, “When I was younger, I had a teddy bear named Sir Fluff.”

Now _he_ laughed, delighted with this new piece of information. “He sounds very brave.”

“He was!” He could tell from her voice that she was smiling again, which was good. “I actually had him for a good long while. He helped me through some rough nights. Very good listener. But…” her sigh tickled his neck. “I lost him moving apartments.”

“Oh no!” His heart gave a pang at the thought of the poor little guy, once so loyal, all lost and alone. “I hope he found a safe place.”

She chuckled. “Me too.”

He could feel her smile against his arm, the movement of her breathing. A sleepy contentment washed over him. His own breathing slowed. Man, is this what he’d been missing out on? The thought clicked that _this_ was it, _this_ was the feeling he’d been chasing, all those nights bar hopping, finding someone willing to be charmed long enough for a quick session back at their place. Just… warmth and comfort shared between two people who trusted each other.

Without thinking about it, he idly started stroking her back with the arm she was laying on. Riley responded with a sigh, leaning into his touch.

This……changed the mood of things. Maxwell tensed. ...Oh. _…Oh no._

He shifted slightly, trying to get ahold of himself.

_Alright Maxwell, this is our buddy Riley we're talking about. A friend! For friending! Just because she's funny and pretty and soft and actually laughs at your jokes is no reason to be weird about it. That's what friends do!_

She shifted against him.

 _“Bertrand wanted me to tell you about tomorrow's lessons!”_ He burst out suddenly.

She jumped, a startled laugh escaping her. She moved a little back from him, which was. Good.

Ah yes, talking about Bertrand was the least sexy thing he could think of! He tried picturing Bertrand’s reaction if he caught Maxwell perving on their sponsored suitor. That was an instant bucket of cold water if there ever was one.

Tomorrow was due to be some sort of summary of international trade laws, but they soon made their way over to speculating just how many duels had been fought over proper spoon placement. They passed the sleepy evening that way, winding from topic to topic until he interrupted himself with a huge yawn in the middle of a story about the childhood snowball fight where he’d taken out Olivia and she’d retaliated by plunging him into a snowbank.

“Whoa, was that your jaw cracking? I _felt_ that.”

He wiggled it experimentally, knocking against her head and making her giggle. “It's not the company boring me, I promise.”

“Well _obviously._ I am incredibly interesting.”

“Most interesting queen-to-be _I've_ ever met.”

He felt her lips shift into a smile, but it was brief. “Thanks Maxwell. You… always have so much faith in me.”

“Well… of course. You can do anything.”

Silence fell between them.

Abruptly, Riley sat up. “Alright, it's getting pretty late. Off to bed with you, Lord Beaumont!”

He shivered involuntarily at the sudden retreat of her warmth. “Huh? Oh.” He yawned again, sitting up. “Hmm. This was nice.” He was quite sleepy.

“Yeah, it was!”  Eyes still closed, he felt her ruffle his hair and smiled contentedly. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.” Her hand was gone and he was a little sad about that.

“Man, you really are a morning person, huh?” She sounded amused. “I'm the opposite, I'm wide awake now.”

“Bertrand’s like, both somehow.” He blinked at her slowly. “I kinda think he's a vampire.”

“How is he with garlic? Wait, _no,_ you're not distracting me. You're about to fall asleep and I'm sure you'd much rather do it in your bed than on top of mine.”

In his sleepy honesty, he thought she might be wrong about that. But even though he let her shoo him back to his room then, she left him with a warm glow which stayed with him all the way into slumber.


	3. speak a little easier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Book 2 Chapter 9) Dealing with the fallout of their disastrous investigation at the Speakeasy, Drake and Riley find themselves at a dive bar. Drake's got whiskey and Riley's got too many feelings bottled up.
> 
> An alternate scene to the diamond scene at the bar with Drake. Was feeling a little guilty about all the time Riley was still spending with Liam, and this happened.

It’s about an hour after their disastrous interrogation which got them ejected from Liam’s second bachelor party. She’d gotten kicked out of parties before, and usually considered it a fitting end to one, really. If she hadn’t been trying to dig up information that could say, _clear her entire name and maybe even save the future of Cordonia,_ she wouldn’t have even been disappointed.

Drake is sitting in the stool next to her, grasping his glass of midrange whiskey like it’s the one that wronged him. Riley tries tactfully to sidle back around to the topic of the night. Maybe if she just gets him talking?

She sighs loudly. “Man, I miss that whiskey at the speakeasy.”

Drake takes the bone. “Yeah, kinda hard to go back. This stuff ain’t bad though.”

He trails off, back into his most Drakest of glares. That glass might explode soon. If only to save it, she quickly casts around for another thing to say, and somehow settles on: “You think Maxwell’s okay?”

The power of Drake’s judging eyebrow actually makes her lean back on her stool. She winces. “Hah, yeah, okay, but would _you_ want to be alone with Bertrand after he found out you’d been keeping that all from him?”

“At least he’s not alone with _me_.” Drake grumbles. “Let him twist a little. Maybe he'll learn something about keeping secrets.” He downed his drink and expertly poured himself another.

She’s already regretting approaching things this way. _Some diplomat you are, Brooks._

Well, she’s in it now. “Drake… I know it hurts but… it _was_ a secret she asked him to keep for her.” She rubs her glass between her palms. “Maybe it wasn't the best way of going about things,” she chuckles humorlessly, “but … he _was_ just trying to protect her.”

He sighs. “Yeah." It's surprising that he's agreed so fast, but he is still talking. "I guess… What I hate the most is that… she felt like she needed protecting. Even from me.”

Her anxious heart sinks, hurting for him. She's heard the way he talks about his sister. He really would have done anything for her. 

“I just… I trusted him, you know?”

She nods again. “That _sucks_ , man. No way around it. ” She blinks, remembering Maxwell’s conflicted face. “But…you know it wasn't his secret to tell.” Her anxious hands pick up the whiskey bottle and pour another.

Drake is still scowling, lost in his head.

“I mean… I have some secrets I could use some help keeping.” Her voice has gone clipped. Careful. “That kind of trust… That’s important too.” She looks up at him through her eyelashes.

Drake snorts, his feelings clearly hurt. He doesn’t get what she’s trying to do yet. “Why not tell all your secrets to Maxwell, if he's such a good secret-keeper.”

She bites her lip. _Please, don’t make me say it._

Drake pauses mid-swig, noticing her uncharacteristic stillness. “...Brooks?”

“What if.” Slowly. “What if a secret is… about Maxwell.”

The eyebrow was back. “Okay, what did he do _now--?”_

“Nah, he… hasn’t. Done anything.” Riley downs the rest of her glass in one motion.

Drake stares at Riley. Riley stares at the counter. “More, please.” She whispers, forcing a tiny smile.  

“So…” She watches him thinking as he pours more whiskey into her glass. His face changes as he switches gears. “So, _Liam…_ ”

Riley hides a wince as she carefully sips her whiskey. “Liam is great.”

“'Great.' Hmm. That he is.”

“He’s basically the nicest guy ever, like, _so_ good. Where do you even get a heart that good.”

“It _is_ Paris, I’m sure we could find something.”

“Maybe in a back alley?”

“Hah.” Drake squints at her. “He loves you.”

“Yep, he does.”

“And…” the pause is heavy. “You… love him?”

Another pause. Then, slowly, her head begins swinging from side to side. _No._ No, she does not love King Liam of Cordonia, the man who would give her anything.

Drake let out a long breath. “Ah. _Well._ ”

There it is, out in the world, the biggest part of the secret she’s been swallowing for months now. She feels free and awful all together. The combination unlocks something inside her, and words start pouring out.

“What is _wrong_ with me? Liam is amazing, and perfect, and the way he looks at me… he took me to the Eiffel tower, did you know that?”

“Did not know that.”

“And of course I _care_ about him, but, he. He just isn’t… I’m not… _erghhghh._ ” She buries her head in her arms with a noise of frustration. “He thinks I’m this great person, all those wonderful things he says about me, but… I can’t even love him _back?”_

During all this, there Drake is, just _staring_ at her, his expression unreadable. _God, just_ _say_ something, _dammit._

“So… Maxwell.” Crap. Not that. He’s cycled back around.

“Yeah. Max..wellllll…” She shifts his name around in her mouth you do the way when you’re definitely a little bit past buzzed and words start to taste more interesting. “He just. He makes me laugh, I guess?” She realizes a small smile has crossed her lips and doesn't bother stopping it. Her life is a disaster. “Mmph. What a cliche. But I don’t feel … like I’ve gotta be anyone else around him. He believes in me, and he slides down banisters with me in my fancy ballgown and always helps me look on the bright side. And he makes me want to be better.” The smile is back. “Maybe I want that for my life.”

Drake, for his part, is busy not looking at her. “I guess. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

She wonders if he’s thinking about all the times she’s teased him about being a grump, and feels her heart squeeze. It sure would be great if she could stop hurting people. 

Finally he breathes. “Damn, Brooks.” A small smile finally creases his face. “I’d say you’re fucked.”

She grins, unable to help herself. _“Royally_ fucked.”

He rolls his eyes, groaning. “Ugh. Aren't you perfect for each other.” He pours himself a double.

She watches him drink, worrying her lip with her teeth as she considers the wisdom in getting another refill. “Hmm, except for that whole business where he only sees me as a suitor, and is counting on me to marry Liam so that he and his family aren't ruined and out on the streets. Soooo… ”

Drake laughs derisively. “Fffft. The Beaumonts will not be out on the streets and you _know_ it. They’ll be ‘sell your plane and fly commercial’ broke at worst.”

“Oh, the horror!" She laughs along. "But no, you know what I mean though. It would _kill_ Bertrand to lose their status, everything their family’s worked for. And Maxwell… I think he could probably bounce back from anything, but … disappointing his brother…”

And somehow they’re back to the topic that landed them here in the first place. The silence gets heavy and she hates it.

“So.” She eyes him hesitantly. “Do… do _you_ wanna talk now?”

“…Nah, it’s okay.” He drains his glass and smiles softly. “Thanks for trusting me, Brooks.”

“Of course.”

“Little short on that lately.”

She lets her tipsy head fall onto his shoulder, and she can practically hear him roll his eyes as he pats her on the head.

Suddenly, Riley sits up. “Alright, that’s enough. I’m putting a ban on all this doom and gloom. We are wasting this dive bar!”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he squints at her wryly. “What are you thinking, Brooks?”

She plasters on her biggest smile. “Drinking gaaaaame~!”

“Oh no.”

“Oh _yes._ Have you ever played, ‘Never Have I Ever?’”

* * *

“Never have I ever had literal royalty in love with me and then fallen for his doofy friend.”

“DRAKE”

“Drink, woman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is all the Maxwell fic so angsty, bro just wants to dance and help his friends all be happy
> 
> we'll get happier sooner, promise!


	4. this can't even count as a walk of shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Book 2 Chapter 10) Post-camping diamond scene. You're telling me MC went through all that to sneak into Maxwell's tent and we didn't get an awkward morning after?  
> There's also more Drake being a bro.

Riley comes back to awareness slowly. In the first few seconds of groggy confusion, she first registers she definitely isn't in a bed. The air is cold and crisp, and she can hear birds, along with… someone breathing. 

Her eyes snap open, and the view of the tent brings her back to where she is, and who her sleeping partner must be. She turns over to see him. 

For the first time in her life, Riley has woken up before Maxwell Beaumont. 

He's closer than he should be. Sometime in the night she'd rolled onto her right side and away from him, but his head had ended up on her pillow.

She spends a precious minute holding her breath and watching him, hoping he wakes and praying he doesn't. Part of her is giddy that this worked out as well as it did, and part of her is wrapped up in the something painful that's slowly taking hold in her chest. If she doesn't get out of here, she's going to do something stupid, like touch his hair, or… Her eyes drift to his lips, softly parted in sleep. 

_ No. Bad. _

She screws her eyes shut and swallows.  _ Get out of here, idiot. You've already thrown yourself at him enough.  _

Slowly, quietly, she wriggles out of her sleeping bag, then gets to stealthy work on the tent zipper. 

“Riley…?” 

In the high alert of stealth mode, the soft voice behind her nearly gives her a heart attack. She turns, heart pounding, to see the truly blessed image of Maxwell, clutching her pillow and scrubbing sleep out of his eyes, hippo bare to the world. Or at least, to the tent. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, “I didn't mean to wake you up.” 

“‘S fine.” He smiles at her, open and sleepy and sweet, and she is melting. “What time is it?” 

“Uhh.” Her eyes dart randomly around the tent. “I dunno, I didn't bring my phone in here. Seems early though. You can go back to sleep.” 

“Nah, I'm up.” He yawns. “Might just… lie here for a bit though.”

She smirks. “That sounds nice. I uh.” She meets his eyes. “I gotta pee though, so.” She nods towards the tent flap.

“Oh! Sorry, don't let me stop you.” 

With that, she darts out of the tent, dying inside.  _ How about, “thanks for letting me stay with you,” or, “I had a nice night” or “mind if I join you” or ANYTHING ELSE. God Riley, you are  _ **never** _ getting out of friend territory at this-- _

Drake.  _ Drake _ is here. Watching her climb out of Maxwell’s tent. 

She is a deer in the highlights of his shocked eyebrows. Quickly, her eyes dart around the campsite to make sure it's free of other witnesses before zipping the tent shut. 

Her face has got to be red enough to see from Mars, but she takes a stab at casualness to wave and whisper a greeting.  _ “Morning!!” _

In response, Drake rolls his eyes and gestures to a path away from the camp.

They walk in silence. She doesn’t want to be the one to start, but she doesn’t want him to either. Maybe she'll just walk off the cliff and no one has to start. 

“Let me guess...” Already she does not appreciate his tone. 

“Look--” she tries to interrupt.

“...You ‘mixed up the tents in the dark.’”

“--I don't exactly sleep outside that often, all the nature noises were making me nervous--”

_ “Or, _ there was something wrong with your tent?” He asks dryly. “Something only  _ Maxwell _ could fix?” 

“Oh my god, nothing happened!” she bursts out.

He shoots her a look that clearly says  _ Don't bullshit me, Brooks.  _

She scowls back at him. “We just  _ cuddled. _ I… wanted to test a theory.”

“And? Do I want to know the results?” 

“Nothing.  _ Happened. _ ” She sighs, exasperated. “And honestly? I'm even more confused. He didn't try for anything else, but he didn't push me away either, and…” A smile comes to her lips, remembering his arm around her, his head on her pillow this morning. “I don't know.” Frustrated, she drags a hand through her messy hair. “He  _ is  _ into ladies, right? I’ve seen him at clubs. Does he even see me as one?”

A laugh bursts out of Drake like can't help himself before he catches it. 

“What?” She fixes him with a suspicious glare. Whatever he's thinking amuses him and she doesn't like it. 

“If you'd heard him that night we met you… Look, he definitely knows you're a woman.” 

Her mouth drops open.  _ This man contains forbidden knowledge. _ “What?  _ What did he say?” _

He shakes his head and she is one wild moment from grabbing his shoulders and physically shaking the truth out of him. But his frown stops her. “Brooks, you are playing a dangerous game here.” He meets her eyes soberly. “What if I had been Liam?” 

She looks at the ground, abashed. It feels like a low blow, but actually, it's pretty fair. 

“Look… Brooks, have you tried just  _ talking _ to him? Trust me, that guy is  _ not _ going to read hints.”

She groans. “God, you're right. Being subtle isn’t my strong suit anyway, usually I’m way more straightforward.” She kicks a rock. “It's just…” The rock stutters forward a few unsatisfying inches and stops. “…this could ruin so much.” 

Waves crash in the distance. “So could not saying anything.” 

Too many emotions are clawing at her insides. She shuts her eyes. “I just keep thinking… If I wasn't selfish, if I tried a bit harder… I could make Liam happy. I could be the queen everyone needs.” 

“I think…” Drake says carefully. “...that you could do anything you want.” He meets her eyes. “Once you figure out what that is.”

She smiles, grateful and sad. 

They watch the ocean for a minute in silence. 

“Hey, thanks for listening.”

“Yeah.” he replies, not looking at her.

“Seriously, I… I'm sorry for dragging you into this. Especially…” She's tried to forget that look in his eyes that night at Applewood, but it resurfaces when her brain decides she should be feeling more guilty. 

“Eh, forget it,” he says, and it feels like he means it. “We woulda driven each other crazy and we both know it.” 

She returns his smile. “Yeah, well. If I was gonna ruin everything, I'm sorry it couldn't be for you.” 

His mouth quirks. “Thanks.” 

“You're a good guy, Agent Marshmallow.” She knocks his shoulder playfully, he rolls his eyes, and they both head back to camp. 

\-- 

When they're cleaning up, she manages to catch Maxwell. “Hey, thanks for protecting me last night.” She shoots him a teasing smile. “Those ghosts didn't stand a chance.” 

He grins back. “Hey if anything, you protected me!” 

“Anytime.”

His warm smile brings that fluttering back to her chest. “Same.” 

Just then, Hana calls him over to help, and she's left alone with the company of that confusing bastard called hope. 


	5. LA to NYC ✈

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Book 2 Ch 15) After finally tracking down Tariq, the gang is flying back to New York. Woo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those confusing exciting moments at the beginning of a relationship where they're shifting into something new, not sure where the boundaries are.

With a quick glance around to check that everyone else is occupied, she drops unceremoniously into Maxwell's lap.

“Whoa, hello!”

“Shh!” she covers his mouth, smothering a laugh of sheer giddiness.

“Sorry!” He lowers his voice, confused but smiling. “What's this about?” His eyebrow is raised, hands suspended in midair as if unsure if he's allowed to touch her.

“I don't know, I'm just excited! We did it, you know?” she shakes his shoulder. “We found Tariq, we're finally going to clear my name! And then…” She trails off, gazing at him. It's kind of overwhelming up close. “Well…we'll see, huh?” Is she blushing? _Geez._

He grins up at her, one hand finally coming to rest lightly on her knee. “I knew we could do it!”

“We _are_ a great team.”

“The best! But uh,” the hand is gone (nooo) as he glances towards their friends. “Should we…?”

“Yeah.” Suddenly shy in a way she never is around him, she hesitates. Before she can lose her nerve, she pecks him on the cheek and jumps off his lap. She throws him an awkward smile before walking to sit next to Hana. Maxwell looks shocked, his cheeks stained pink, and for a moment she's unsure if she pushed too far too fast. But before she plops down in her seat, she glances back again, and sees him watching her with a giddy smile he isn't even trying to contain.

“You look pleased.”

Riley turns to see Hana looking at her with amusement.

“I have something to tell you,” she whispers back, biting her lip and utterly failing to suppress a grin.

She relays the story of the UN party, and all that had transpired on that unbelievable trip to the roof. Hana, fantastic best friend that she is, is supportive and even more excited than Riley hoped she’d be. They pass the rest of the flight in whispered talks and giggles, until Drake gets too suspicious and they have to disband.

“This is a _pause_ on this conversation, not an end,” Hana says with a surprising amount of authority.

“Just try and stop me.”

“Oh… _Too cute.”_

“You two make me nervous.” Drake breaks in again. “Maxwell, back me up here.”

Riley's giggles trail off as she locks eyes with the younger Beaumont.

“Definitely nervous,” he says.

But he's smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just replayed book 2 and wanted happy Maxwell fic so I did it myself! 
> 
> This illustration and more TRR nonsense up on my tumblr because I can't be stopped:  
> http://partytimesloth.tumblr.com/post/175897101419/la-nyc-ao3-with-a-quick-glance-around-to


	6. Great News...!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Book 2, Chapter 16.) Little rewrite of the scene right after Liam comes to tell Riley he'd broken off his engagement. This was originally written for the prompt, "a kiss because they're running out of time."

Riley didn't know how long she sat on her bed after Liam left, tracing patterns on the bedcovers, sorting through her thoughts. Her emotions were a swirling hurricane; excitement, joy that her friend could stop living a lie! Nervousness, anticipation, knowing what she would soon have to say.

Before then, there was one person she needed to see.

Fortunately, she literally ran into him the second she walked out her door. _“Oh!”_ Familiar black fabric filled her vision.

Maxwell’s arms came up around her, catching her as she stumbled. “Why, hello there!”

“Hi!” She grinned up at him, seeing her excitement mirrored in his face. That sight alone was enough to clear away the clouds of her anxiety like sunshine.

She’d regained her balance, but didn’t step away. Neither did he.

“I was just coming to wake you up!” he explained.

“Aw, sorry, Liam beat you to it.” Reminders pinged at the back of her mind, chipping away at her warm glow.

“That guy!” He scowled dramatically. “Trying to put me out of a job. What did he want this early, anyway?”

“Well… He had news!”

“Oh?” His eyes widened in anticipation. “Good news or bad news?”

 _“Great_ news, actually!” She paused to draw out the moment. “Ready for this?”

 _“So_ ready.”

“Liam broke his engagement to Madeline!”

“Oh!” His mouth dropped open. “Oh! Oh my gosh! _He’s free!_ ” He started jumping, unable to contain the excitement.

 _“Yeah!”_ She jumped with him, and they laughed wildly in relief like idiots.

Once they'd calmed down, she straightened up and took a small step back. “He also,” she continued, “asked to speak with me tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep, I…” She tugged restlessly at her shirt. “Now that his engagement is over… I’m pretty sure I know what he wants to say.”

“Oh! ...Oh.” She finally saw it settle on him, the reality of things outside their bubble. “Well, it’s… what you’ve been waiting for… right?”

She cocked her head at him. She’d been trying to give him space to think things through after the roof, but that left her unsure of where his head was at. “I mean, things are… kinda different now.”

“Well…” He was still smiling, but his gaze bounced around the hallway, avoiding hers. “You should hear him out.”

She blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Think about it, he might offer you… unlimited royal spa passes forever!” He laughed hollowly. “That’s… probably something you get as queen…” he ran a hand through his hair, smile struggling to stay on his face.

It was that broken little expression that did it. She reached up, decisively pulling his lips down to hers.

For a moment, he stood frozen in place. But her lips moved gently against his until he responded, tentatively at first, then with growing purpose. His hands fisted in the sides of her shirt, not pulling her closer, just… holding. She could feel them trembling.

After a minute she pulled back to rest her forehead against his, their ragged breaths mingling.

“I… ” He took a steadying breath, hands uncurling and slowly trailing off her hips. “You should…”

“Oh Maxwell…” Sighing, she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “I’ll talk to him. But I'm not going to change my mind. Okay?”

He finally met her gaze, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. Her heart squeezed. All she wanted was for him to feel safe with her… Just like she did with him.

For now…

Using her thumb, she poked at the corner of the mouth until he gave in and smiled.

Shaking his head, he laughed, the sound cutting the tension in the air. “Come on,” his hand slipped into hers, tugging her along. “Let’s get you to the boutique.”

She grinned at him. “What, you don’t think I look ready to meet the king?” She did a little shimmy in her pajamas before allowing herself to be pulled along.

He glanced back, eyeing sliding up and down her outfit. “You always look fantastic.” With that, he turned away, but she could see his smile.

Ah. _There_ was that warm glow.


	7. Warmth and Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Book 3, Chapter 8.) After the movie date diamond scene.  
> I wanted to delve a little more into Riley's backstory, so have a thing inspired by Maxwell being naturally cold.  
> (https://thedepthsremember.tumblr.com/post/177299663833/cute-maxwell-things-from-taking-the-not-kissing)

Soon after the car pulled up in front of Kiara’s house, Maxwell and Riley tumbled out of it, quickly leaning against each other for support as they meandered down the driveway.

 _“Ughh…_ I am _never_ ever eating popcorn again.”

“We flew too close to the sun.”

“Blinded by our own hubris.”

Their groans of pain turned into laughter, steps slowing as they approached the house.

He turned to look at her more clearly. “So, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but…” he traced a finger along the collar of her shirt, skimming her skin. “...is this… what you wore that first night in New York?”

Riley’s face lit up like Times Square. “Yeah! I love this shirt.” She beamed down at it. “I didn’t expect you to remember.”

“Well…” He let his finger follow her necklace down teasingly before pulling his hand back with a grin. “...it _was_ a pretty memorable night.”

“Yeah...” her voice dropped flirtatiously as she stepped up against him. “The night some rowdy punks came in a half hour before closing and stayed for _another hour.”_

“Hey, we apologized for that!” he pouted as she moved back, laughing. “We got the time difference wrong.”

Riley waved him off. “You know I’m kidding. You guys were fun! If you weren't?” Her eyes narrowed, finger wagging threateningly. “I had ways of getting you outta there. Half the time Europeans don’t realize they’re supposed to tip anyway, so. No big loss.”

He laughed, but trailed off abruptly as the wind blew, causing him to shiver.

“Oh!” She realized that while she might be snug in her trusty leather jacket, Maxwell had only his precious Gucci to keep him warm. “Are you cold? Let’s go inside.”

“No!” He rubbed his arms unconvincingly. “Well, maybe a little.” He smiled sheepishly down at her. “I just… don’t want tonight to end yet.”

If she wasn’t warm before, that did the trick. “Ahhh, me neither. Here.” She grabbed his arms and pulled them under her jacket to wrap around her waist. As much as she loved any excuse to get his hands on her again, she couldn't help but be amused. “How am _I_ the warm one in this relationship?”

Maxwell bent down, seeking heat. She screeched like a banshee as he nuzzled his face into her neck. “ _Ahhhh_ your nose is like an icicle! _Whyyy!?”_

He laughed wickedly, rubbing it against her neck until she started laughing with him. “Yesss, I finally understand, _this_ is what girls are for.”

 _“Augh,_ you’re the worst, don’t touch me.” Immediately contradicting herself, she began rubbing his back, infusing him with warmth. “You’re so the opposite of every other guy I’ve dated,” she mused. “Usually they’re furnaces.”

“Oh?” Was it her imagination, or did he tense just a little? “Even Liam?”

“ _Especially_ Liam. And you’ve seen how many layers he wears on the daily, I don’t know how he stands it.”

“Such is the burden of the crown,” he mused.

“So poetic, my Maxwell,” she teased, scritching a hand through his hair. She felt him relax again. So she hadn’t been imagining it. _Hmm_. She decided to chase that hunch.

“You know,” she said carefully. “You told me your… _history_... but I didn’t really tell you much about mine.”

He rolled his head onto her shoulder, and despite the awkward angle she could see him peering pensively up at her. “You mentioned past exes a few times, but yeah, not specifics.”

She was a little impressed that had stuck with him; she couldn’t even remember bringing it up. “Heh, if it was enough for me to mention, it was pretty much just the one ex.”

“Really?” He pulled back far enough to properly see her face, and she decided it was time to be more comfy. Taking his hand in hers, she pulled him along to a bench alongside the lawn.

And she told him. About the time she thought she might’ve found love, but to keep it she gave and _gave_ and it was never enough. How she finally built up the courage to end it for her own sake, but then he’d ended up with almost all their friends in the breakup. How making it alone in one of the busiest cities in the world had become her new normal, leaving her all too willing to make the jump when an almost-stranger offered her a fresh start.

“So… when you said you wanted to take things slow? With us? That was… kind of a relief.” Her fingers traced random patterns across his knuckles, her legs strewn across his lap. She’s always been tactile, and deeply appreciates how willing he’s been to indulge her need to be grounded when she’s stressing. “I mean, sex is fun. And a lot of times it is easier for me to … _show_ how I feel than say it.” She looked up at him through her lashes. He nodded encouragingly, squeezing her hand. She flashed him a small smile before continuing.

“But it made me feel like you feel just as precious about this as I do. I didn't... I mean... ” She shook her head, shrugging ruefully. “That hasn't always been the case.”

He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head, and she sees an unfamiliar tightness in the set of his jaw. “I really hate that anyone had you that close and didn’t appreciate what they had.” Fingers laced through hers, he pulled her hand to his lips, kissing her palm softly.

“Thank you.” She whispered. “And… yeah, he really missed out.” She raised her chin defiantly. “I’m amazing.”

“ _Damn_ straight!” he enthused, shaking her hand for emphasis, before turning serious again. “I know we haven't gone very far yet, but being with you feels so different than with anyone else I've been with. Special. I just want to enjoy every minute of it.”

“Aww, Maxwell…” Her eyes crinkled. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want you… _a lot_ .” His chuckle dropped an octave, eyes dipping down and making her shiver, before snapping back to meet her eyes earnestly. “But it’s not the sex I want, it’s, it’s _you.”_  

 _Oh._ She ducked her head, blinking quickly against the onslaught of emotions threatening to burst out of her.

“Hey,” he said softly, a bit alarmed, leaning towards her. “Hey, I--”

She met him halfway, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. “You don’t know what it means to hear someone say that,” she sighed.

He pulled her fully into his lap, reaching up to run his fingers soothingly through her hair. “Honestly? It’s… kind of what I wanted somebody to say to me.”

She squeezed him tighter. “Well, you have _me_ for that now.” She pulled back to cup his face in her hands, staring into his eyes. “I want you, Maxwell Beaumont. All of you.”

His eyes shone in the lamplight. “And I want _you_ , Riley Brooks.”

With that, she pulled him down for kiss, fierce but tender. It reinforced everything they’d just said, how much they wanted, how much they cared.

With one last slow kiss, Riley pulled back to look into his eyes. There was so much love and tenderness there it was hard to look, but she kept her gaze steady. “We really were waiting for each other this whole time, huh?”

His smile could light up all of Cordonia. “It was worth it.”


	8. in which there are makeouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (After Book 3, Chapter 10) If no one's going to bake Riley a "Congrats on the sex" cake, she will totally do it herself.

The morning after the costume ball, Riley woke up from an entertaining dream involving Maxwell as a sort of … squid merman, involving a rather imaginative use of his tentacles. It was more funny than anything, but it does remind her of what’s important: Yesterday, she and Maxwell had finally had sex. 

\----

_ “I'm done overthinking it. I want you, Riley.” _

_ Riley's heart was beating in her ears. It took all her effort to not jump off the bench and scream  _ YES,  _ YES _ , LET’S DO THIS. _ She took a deep breath. “Maxwell, if we're going to do this, then…I need you to ask me.” She peered up at him through her eyelashes. “Because if you're saying what I'm pretty sure you're saying, then…” She nodded firmly, smiling. “But… I need you to say it. So there's no ambiguity.” _

_ He nodded slowly, starting to understand. “Riley,” his voice was low and soft. “I'm done waiting. I… I want us to have sex.” _

_ Hearing the words in his voice  _ did  _ something to her. Her lips parting with want, she grabbed him by the squid tie and yanked him down to her. It was messy, and she tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth as she released him. “Hell yes,” she breathed, and he laughed. “Where do you want to do this, my room, your room…? Wait, don't you share with Bertrand--?” _

_ He stood, pulling her to her feet with a grin. “I know just the place.” _

_ She had just enough time to be intrigued -- before he suddenly turned and dashed away, yelling with excitement.  _

_ “H-hey!” she called, laughing with shock. “You're forgetting something important!”  _

_ Slipping off her heels, she sprinted after him, laughing the whole way. She loves this man, so much.  _

\--

Memories tumbling through her brain, Riley kicks her legs against the sheets, giggling and rolling around excitedly.  _ God,  _ she forgot what it was like to have a sex life. She squishes her thighs together. How does anyone get anything else  _ done? _ There are things she should probably get up for, but images of them together have filled her brain, leaving no room for anything else. As many nights (and car rides, and boring meetings) as she’d spent imagining how his dance moves might translate over to what he could do with his hips, the real thing was on a completely different level. And how sweet was it that he tested every available bed in the palace to make things perfect for them? She can’t get over it. She squeezes a pillow to her face, smothering her giggles. She’s the luckiest lady in Cordonia. Probably even the world. 

There aren’t any events today, so no real reason for Maxwell to come wake her up, but she can’t help but hope he does anyway. Then she remembers that she is well within her rights to do something about that. The idea is still strangely, thrillingly new. She pulls out her phone, then pauses on what to say. “I can’t stop thinking about yesterday” is true, but then again, a lot happened yesterday, and there are parts she’d rather not think about right now. She casts around for something better, and eventually settles on a classic. 

_ “I miss you ♥” _

As soon as she hits send, she tosses her phone back on the nightstand and tumbles out of bed in one ungraceful movement.  _ Ugh, headrush.  _ Stumbling to the door, she unlocks it before diving back into the warmth of the covers. 

Not thirty seconds later, there is a familiar knock. 

_ “Goooood morning! It’s me! …Maxwell!”  _

She shakes her head, smiling. As if she couldn’t recognize him by now from his voice, his knocks, his excited footsteps. “Come in!”

There's a pause. She wonders if he’s still remembering the time at the beginning of the social season when he came in to wake her up, and walked in on her changing instead. She had very calmly pulled on her dress, and then explained to him while smoothing the creases out that if he ever came in without knocking again, she would put him through the window. He had clearly taken this to heart, as since that time he almost never opened her door first, instead waiting for her to do it. 

Slowly, the door opens. 

A smile spreads across her face at the sight of him, bright eyed and smiling back at her. He steps in and closes the door behind him, taking in the scene with hands in pockets. “Well, don’t you look cosy.” 

She stretches. “I’ve decided never to leave this bed again, and it would be nice to have a buddy.” 

He pops up on his toes, raising a hand. “I volunteer!” 

She laughs. “I was hoping you would. Lock the door?” 

Automatically he turns to comply, then pauses and looks confused. “Wait.” He clicks the lock into place. “You sleep with your door unlocked?”

_ Busted _ . Of course she hasn't made  _ that _ mistake since Applewood. Stupidly, she feels her cheeks heat as she’s forced to admit this isn’t a completely casual, unplanned seduction. Of her own fiancé. “I may have… unlocked it for you.” 

His grin reappears and he starts towards the bed, but before he can climb in she says, “Take off your pants.”

He raises an eyebrow.  _ “Bossy  _ today.” But he’s biting his lip as he unbuttons his jeans. 

She smiles sweetly. “I just thought you might be more comfortable.”

“For the record, I was not complaining.” He lets his pants fall to the floor, then spreads his arms wide with a flourish. “Anything else? 

_ Well. _ She leans forward, watching intently. “Lose the shirt.”

“Yes ma’am.” Never taking his eyes off hers, he begins unbuttoning his shirt, one slow button at a time. Right as he unfastens the final one, he spins around. With his back turned, he peers over his shoulder, throws her a wink -- and begins shimmying the shirt off his shoulders. 

She bursts into giggles, clapping with delight. It is topped only by the one he gave yesterday as the best and funniest striptease she has ever been privileged to receive. She sees him turn back to face her just before her world is enveloped in black fabric. 

She's laughing too hard to get his shirt off her head, but feels the bed dip as he climbs in next to her.  _ “Good morning,” _ he says right up against her lips, and she can feel him smiling. 

“Well good morning to  _ you,  _ sir,” she says, giddy from finally touching him. She’s kissing him in little sips before pulling back. “But be careful! My fiancé was just here.”

He pulls the shirt free, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he cocks his head. “Should I be concerned that  _ my  _ fiancé lacks object permanence?”

“Oh!  _ Maxwell!”  _ She's laughing too hard at her own dumb joke. “ _ There _ you are!” 

Snickering, he collapses onto her, and they lie there for a bit while their giggles subside. She runs her fingers through his hair and he burrows into her with a contented sigh. 

“Hey,” she says eventually.

“Mmm?” 

“I’m really happy.”

He sits up halfway to look at her. “Yeah?” 

She touches his face. “Very much.” 

His smile grows beneath her fingers. “Me too.” 

She lifts her head and he meets her halfway. It starts soft and slow, until Maxwell makes a little hum against her lips, and Riley presses more firmly into him, deepening the kiss. She tugs on his hair gently and he lets out a moan that stirs the fire in her belly. She’s learned it doesn’t take a lot before he starts getting vocal, but encouraging that has become her new favorite game. 

Though right now he seems to be winning, as he’s made his way to her neck, sucking gently until he gets some noise out of  _ her.  _ Leaving more kisses as he goes, he trails down further until he reaches her tank top. He tugs at it. “You've got me at a disadvantage, here.” 

_ “Have _ I?” she asks, too innocently. When he looks up at her, she flicks her eyes down then back to his, and he quirks an eyebrow, curious. His hands run along her sides, down and down until… _ “Oh.”  _

As it turns out, they’re both wearing exactly one piece of clothing. “Yep,” she smiles. 

He climbs over her, holding himself in a plank with arms on both sides of her head. His eyes twinkle down at her as his eyes rove down her body. “God, Riley…” 

“Maxwell…” She returns, wrapping her arms around him and trying to tug him down, but he refuses to budge. “Hey. Get down here!” 

“Your wish is my command.” He lowers his lips to hers--only his lips. She can feel him smiling, the punk. 

Well,  _ that _ just won’t do. She tightens her arms around his back and and wraps her legs around his hips until she’s hanging from him like a koala. He snickers, planting kisses all over her face. “I wonder if we--can walk--around like this. Start a new trend?”

“How are you with piggyback rides?” She nibbles on his ear. “Maybe that would be a little more…” she grinds up against him for emphasis.  _ “...subtle.”  _

He groans, dropping down onto her. _“Oof!”_  

“Sorry!” 

She laughs. “Don’t apologize, you’re right where I want you.” She runs her hands across his back, feeling the muscles there.  _ “God, _ I love touching you.” 

He sucks in a breath, and she can tell he’s pleased. “If it feels nearly as amazing as touching you…” he trails a hand down, and she gasps. “Wow,” he blinks at her. “You’re soaked already. I can feel it through my boxers.” 

She blushes. It’s a stupid thing to feel self-conscious about, but it’s never taken much to get her going. She finds herself deflecting. “They make a terrible condom,” she replies brashly. 

He laughs. “I can do something about that.” 


	9. Colors and Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-game! _(sobs in denial) (it's.fine..)_ Fill for a sentence prompt on tumblr.

Maxwell returned from Ramsford late in the afternoon. Normally Riley would have gone along, since neither were exactly happy about being apart for the longest amount of time _(two whole days!)_ since, well, they’d met, but they had just gotten excited and bought a bunch of paint to redo a few rooms in themed colors, and when it came down to it, they decided at least one of them had to be there to personally execute their vision.

Anyway, he was back now, and was currently wandering the halls in a desperate search for his wife (his wife! Still a wild concept), who wasn’t in any of the places he’d expected her to be.

He was just about to give up on surprising her and pull out his phone to call her when he turned down a new corridor and found a door open to a room they didn’t normally use. When they’d returned after the wedding and run around deciding what rooms would be for Hana or guests or kittens, Riley had fallen in love with this room on first sight, quietly requesting it remain unused for now. It was a medium-sized sitting room, its biggest feature the floor to ceiling windows that let in plenty of light. He’d been crazy curious, but she’d promised to explain once she’d figured it out herself.

He poked his head in to find his wife seated in front of an easel.

“Hey! There you are--”

There’s an unholy shriek and the next thing he knows, whatever she’d been holding is flying towards him with great speed. Fumbling, he eventually manages to catch it, but not without getting his hands and shirt splattered in… green paint. He’s holding a paintbrush.

He looks up at Riley, bewildered. She has her hands clasped to her mouth and is staring at him, eyes comically wide.

Luckily, Maxwell Beaumont has had much stranger things thrown his way with even less preamble. “So,” he begins, attempting to wipe the paint off. “Last you told me, you were repainting the ball pit room?” It’s just smearing all over his arms. He gives up. “Now I’m no artist, but I am at least 87% sure that means **the paint belongs on the wall, not on me.”**

She crosses the room to him, looking sheepish. “I am _so_ sorry…”

“...Or on your _face,”_ he laughs, using the back of his hand to scrub at the multicolored smears she’d left across her jaw.

She shakes her head, trying not to smile. “Aw, geez… Don’t bother. It’s oil paint, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Well--” he gestures to his splattered shirt “--at least I’m not alone.”

She eyes him up and down, then finally laughs, hands starting back towards her face before he catches them.

“Alright, what’s going on? You’re painting again?”

Hesitating, she throws a glance back towards the easel, biting her lip. “Yyyeah.”

“That’s great!” She smiles, ducking her head, and it finally registers that she’s being… _shy_. It’s adorable, but he can’t remember the last time he saw this mood. “We’ve been texting all day, I can’t believe you kept it a secret!”

She makes a move as if going back to her face again, but he’s still holding her hands, so she starts fiddling with his fingers instead. “I’ve been wanting to try again for a while, but I didn’t want to make a big thing about it, in case… it didn’t work.” She’s started blending colors from her hand to his in some very pretty combinations. Huh. Maybe that color would work in the kitten room…

 _Focus, Maxwell!_ “Hey, I’ve seen some of your old stuff, you were good! Why would you worry about that?”

“Ohhh no.” She glares at him. “You found my Instagram, didn’t you?”

He grins. “Yes, I did. You really like boats, huh?”

She rolls her eyes, but he can see a hint of a smile. “Ugh, stalker.”

He shrugs, unperturbed. “Hey, I wasn’t going to bring you here without doing _some_ kind of googling! Patented Maxwell Beaumont background check: As much as people try to pretend, social media _always_ shows your real self to those who know how to look.”

For some reason, she looks pleased. “So… let me get this straight, the night we met, you went home and spent the rest of the evening cyberstalking me?”

He opens and shuts his mouth several times. “Whoa, okay, I mean…”

Her grin spreads mischievously. “You _liiiiked_ me.”

“You -- Wait. You’re trying to distract me!”

“What? No!” She gets on her tiptoes to lean in close, and if he wasn’t sure before, he is now. “Let’s just talk more about how pretty you thought I was.”

“Okay, that’s not fair, you know that’s like my third favorite thing to do.” He does plant a kiss on her lips before putting a finger over them, delicately pushing her face back. “Come on Riles, talk to me.”

Her shoulders slump. “Alright…” She walks over to pull something out of one of the bags sitting around the easel and returns waving a bar of soap. “It’s gritty! Works wonders.” She takes his hand, pulling him towards the door. “Let’s go get cleaned up, and we can talk.”

With one last glance towards the painting he still can’t quite see, he follows her out of the room.

\----

A few minutes later, they’re in his favorite bathroom, their outer clothes given to the staff along with Riley’s best tips for how to get oil paint out of fabric.

Riley dips a finger in the green paint still smeared across his forearms and pokes a couple blobs onto the hippo’s head. “And now he’s Bob Ross!”

“Who knew he was hiding such talents this whole time?”

She smiles and begins unwrapping the soap bar. “Come here.”

She runs it under the sink and begins rubbing it along his arms. It’s scratchy. “This is going to be very exfoliating,” he comments.

Her mouth quirks up, but she otherwise stays focused on her task. “So I was down in the ball pit room, painting one of the walls, and I guess I just _missed it,_ you know? I mean, painting a wall isn’t much like canvas, but it’s the first thing I’ve _really_ done in years, and… Anyway, I finished up that one wall and ran out to the store. Spent _way_ too much on all-new supplies.” She shudders a bit.

A thoughtful silence falls between them as she scrubs between his fingers. Then she smiles coyly up at him. “You know what the first thing I wanted to paint was?”

He grins, intrigued. “What?”

“You.”

He blinks. “Wha?”

“I am going to have to build up to that though.” She falls into a ramble as she overcompensates for the admission. “I know if first thing back, I try for my masterpiece, I’m gonna hate everything and stop. So I was actually painting the view from the windows. All those trees. The lake.”

He’s still staring at her. “You wanted to paint… me?”

“Yeah, for a long time now.” She takes a deep breath, and her words become more careful. “There was actually this day… It was during the engagement tour.” She looks away, falling back into the memory. “It was just any day, really. Somewhere between Italy and France. We were getting breakfast on the train with Drake and Hana, so I was sitting next to you, and I looked over at you…” her cheeks heat, but she presses on. “The light caught just right--” _shining through his eye, long lashes, profile lit up as his lips parted in a smile_ \-- “and I just…” she presses a hand to her heart, which is reliving the _longing_ it felt then. She breathes deep, and his familiar scent calms her down. “I wanted to paint again. And I hadn’t been able to in years, but I needed … I needed somebody else to see how beautiful you are to me.” She looks up at him, finally.

Her entire speech he’s been standing there, unmoving, and now that she looks up she can see that his eyes are shining.

Her instinctual reaction is panic. “Oh no, don’t cry, _I’m sorry--”_

He hugs her. Immediately her arms wrap around him in turn, and though she can feel her face smush into the paint she’d put onto the hippo, she just doesn’t care.

“Riley, you’re… amazing.” He whispers. “I can’t believe…”

“Hey.” She pulls him tightly to her. “You’re worth it. You’re always worth it.”

They stand there for a long minute, breathing together. She hears his heartbeat, steady and strong and fast.

“Maxwell,” she finally whispers.

“Riley.”

“We’re getting paint all over each other again.”

He laughs.


	10. any ordinary morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-game fluff! Written for the prompt, "I know you're awake."  
> P.S. Revanasi is my name for the duchy.

  _Tap taptaptap … taptap. Soft curse._ The bed shifts.

Riley is awake. This is a state of being she rarely approves of, so she keeps her eyes closed, hoping in vain that sleep will take her again. It’s too late, her brain is aware and wondering where she is. She hasn’t spent more than a week at a time of the past year in the same bed, but there’s still a little spike of panic every time she doesn’t immediately recognize where she is.

She can smell Maxwell, and that’s what jogs her memory. She’s in their bed, in Revanasi. Their home, _together_. Contentment builds in her and she sighs, squishing herself further into the softest of pillows.

“Riley?”

She holds very still.

He chuckles softly. “I know you’re awake. You’re not even breathing.”

Okay, so she’s never been very good at that. “Maybe I’m dead,” she mumbles.

She feels him stiffen. _“Ghost wife!”_

She lets out the best ghostly groan her half-awake self can muster, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Gimmie your human warmthhh.” She presses a few kisses to the spots of his t-shirt that she can reach before settling in with her head on his lap.

“Hmm, ghost wife feels suspiciously alive.” He squeezes her hip.

She rolls to squint up at him, smiling a bit. “You caught me.”

“How’d you sleep?”

She thinks about it. _“Awesome.”_

He leans down and kisses her, and they spend a few lazy minutes trading smooches back and forth before he sits up. “Hey, I need help finding a word.” He waves something and she realizes he’s holding his tablet.

“Working on the next best seller?”

“You know it!” He grins. Then frowns. “Only I’m stuck on this one passage. Can I read it to you?”

“Mmm, hit me with it.” She settles in.

He reads the passage out loud, and she considers. “Excited… Bubbly?”

He considers. “Mmm, almost, but it’s not quite right.”

“Ummm…” She thinks, but sleep fog still has hold of her brain. She groans. “Baaabe, I’m an artist. You’re the one who’s good at… words.” She rolls herself off him and back into the pillows.

Then, muffled: “Effervescent?”

She hears him mouthing words to see how they fit. “That’s _perfect,_ thanks!” He ruffles her hair, and she melts immediately into the touch, cooing.

She snuggles closer to him, and he gently strokes her hair until she falls back asleep.


End file.
